I took a friend’s suggestion very literally when she mentioned during a little gathering with friends last spring, how important it is to always watch your back when you’re spending time in the Estonian forests. She said that she had developed a move that allowed her to keep picking chanterelle while watching over her shoulder. I wondered, what could possibly happen to you in an Estonian forest that required to stretch your body into such an odd position. Well, she said, that she wouldn’t want to run into one of the 700 brown bears that wander through the 2 million hectares of abundant forests in Estonia. I laughingly added, that you naturally wouldn’t want to lose you dear hand-picked chanterelle when running away, which she in turn explained dutifully to be the exact wrong thing to do when encountering a bear. Make yourself bigger than you really are, she said, scare-the-bear so to say. I noted her advice and came up with another reason, why you’d want to watch your back in the forest – you wouldn’t want to lose track of where you are. I’ve been told the story of an old lady, that went into the forest to pick mushrooms, but didn’t return for a couple of days until she surprisingly popped up healthy but a little confused on the side of a road. While gently cutting chanterelle, she had taken the occasional sip from a bottle, that she was still carrying around when she was found again.

A few weeks after this conversation I followed my friend’s advice when I decided to go to the forest. I just wanted to breath fresh air and drove off from the city. It was still quite cold, but sunny. When I got out of my car, I took my stuff (no bottles with suspicious liquids), turned on my GPS-Tracker and marked where I had parked my car. Google had helped me to find this place, from above it seemed like a great spot. A tiny river, loads of trees, few meadows and even fewer signs of people. From time to time I crossed a few narrow roads, jumping over small, muddy ponds induced by 4×4 wheels until I passed an abandoned wooden house. It must have been a cozy home one day; in the months before I had seen dozens of these kinds of houses with roofs fallen in and grass peeking through the empty windows. The setting was really romantic, but another friend recently told me that we’re romanticizing way too much. Life’s not romantic at all, he said, it’s full of hard decisions to take, not to mention the horror that we hear about from less peaceful areas. I also noted that advice and decided to keep the romance at a minimum when describing my adventures in the Estonian forest. By the way, there was still old hay in the house’s little barn and boxes full of moldy apples.

I could go on and on about what I saw that very day. About the trees and their branches reaching out to each other like in a dance, or the moist soil and soft moss covering everything the sun doesn’t reach. But there was one thing that truly made this trip exceptional. I would have never even hoped for such a discovery. At some point, I sat down on a stone next to the river, I wanted to rest, eat a bit and just pull in the intense green around me. Still I was everything but light-headed. I made sure to look over my shoulder once every minute and attempted to find a way that didn’t seem too ridiculous (to myself). But nothing ever was behind or above me. My back was safe until I heard a noise, a splashing sound not too far from me. I didn’t dare to watch right away, as it could have been a bear. Very slowly I turned around, preparing to get up and scare the hell out of whatever there was behind me. When I had completed the 90° turn I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Can you spot Pongo?

I had hardly ever thought of this opportunity – across the river, about 70 metres away, one of the very rare and incredibly shy Pongo Estonica sat and watched me. For the first time, I had heard about the wild Estonian Swamp Orangutan in my Estonian class at university and I wouldn’t believe my teacher. She said that Pongo Estonica is a little smaller than his Southeast-Asian sisters and brothers. It also differs in the color of his fur, as its red-brown is much darker and a slight greenish touch. Also, they like to swim and eat plants from lakes and rivers, which explains why their fur is often very moist and darker than it really is. Nobody knows how many of Pongo Estonica there are, because it’s so very rare to see them.

And there one of them sat just as astonished as me. I couldn’t stop smiling but reminded myself that Pongo Estonica is just as wild as Ursus Arctos. Anyways I didn’t get up, as Pongo sat just as comfortably as me. I took a quick snap with my camera and continued watching him. He barely moved until he eventually had seen enough of me and got on his feet. He went away with dangling shoulders and soon became one with the greenery around him. Still, I could swear that he did glimpse at me once again over his shoulder.

P.S.: By the way, Pongo Estonica is more fortunate than his brothers and sisters in Southeast-Asia, they are endangered and need help. Read more about them here (National Geographic) or here (Orangutan).

If I’m allowed to make a wish for the year 2017 and the years to come, I’d wish for a stronger community, more solidarity and respect.

Yesterday, I was so fortunate to see one of the last performances of “Exhibit B” by Brett Bailey, which was brought to Tallinn by Tallinn’s City Theatre Festival Talveöö unenägu 2016: Plaan B – thanks for that!

In the festival booklet, Paavo Pikk, the festival curator writes:

“In recent times it has often been discussed how our world has become smaller. If you believe in the power of social networks, there are only six degrees of separation between you and the Queen of England. As a downside it has been suggested that we now mostly hear and listen to opinions which we already agree with. Despite a large variety of possibilities to connect with different people, there’s a tendency to engage in things and with people that validate our own worldview and beliefs. Sometimes this is referred to as “confirmation bias”.

The other people and the strange beliefs tend to become identified collectively over the course of time. Whether due to one’s work, age, or temperament, there’s no need to have contact with them very often. Their multitude is easily condensed into a few words and generalisations. […] The retired whine. The artists are disorganized. The conservatives are intolerant. People living in the countryside are not entrepreneurial. The refugees are dangerous. The blondes are stupid. Those labels start their own lives and they usually last until you genuinely meet some of their supposed representations.”

According to these words, I wish for fewer stereotypes, for more open dialogue (I’d include respectful, but I’m not so sure of that’s possible?), that allows us to get a better understanding of other peoples’ life and realities. These dialogues will challenge us, maybe appall us, but they are essential to build a stronger community that values human rights more than everything else.

It’s quite an abstract wish, but I’ll see if I can contribute with something practical!

Mr. Claus Høxbroe is quite the prominent poet in Copenhagen’s vivid scene of lyricists. Back in 2013 he and I started working together, as he allowed me and a couple of Danish students from the university of Kiel to visit his very unique study at that time in the district of Amager. Afterwards he took us on a walk through Amager, showing the oddities of the neighborhood, that he enjoys so much.

Høxbroe truly is a lover of Copenhagen, even though his admiration for the Danish capital at times turns into a love and hate relationship, as the busy city tends to make life more and more foreseeable and also marginalizes his much loved odd characters and corners. He’s recently switched his Amager-based study with a bunker-styled basement apartment in the city center, in order to be an attentive observer of the ever changing heart of the city.

During the last year a number of new publications provide evidence for Høxbroe’s observant eye. Most prominently Høxbroe launched a new record with his good companion, the pianist Oscar Gilbert and a small orchestra. Check out the video below, to get an idea of the most recent release.

However, Høxbroe is not only performing in Copenhagen and Denmark. Together with Helena Nagelmaa we were able to bring Høxbroe to Germany for the first time in 2014. Høxbroe and Gilbert performed in Kiel and Berlin. I had the pleasure of translating a selection of poems to German and performing them with Høxbroe. Since then Høxbroe was invited to perform at the summer of literature, organised by the Literaturhaus Schleswig-Holstein, based in Kiel. The reading tour in summer 2015 brought the author and the pianist to remote places in Northern Germany. Again we had the chance to perform together.

Reading with C. Høxbroe in Friedrichstadt, Germany, 2015.

Shortly before the readings in northern Germany, Høxbroe and I had the pleasure to publish the first Danish-German edition of his poems with the great publishers hochroth! The Danish Arts Council supported the project “Asphalt und Auferstehung / Asfalt og opstandelse” willingly and thankfully and we’re very happy, that the bilingual edition can be ordered online and has helped us to continue our journey.

Last but not least after performances at the book fair, Høxbroe will continue his lyrical conquest of Europe, performing at the literary festival PRIMA VISTA in Tartu, Estonia on the 5th of May. Together again with pianist Oscar Gilbert, he will introduce the Estonian audience to their jazzy improvisations and the beat of Copenhagen! Make sure to come by to one of the various readings!

Last year I performed twice with the Danish beatpoet Claus Høxbroe and the pianist Oscar Gilbert in Berlin and Kiel, Germany. The literature venue Literaturhaus Schleswig Holstein has now invited the two to participate in their annual festival “Summer of literature” focussing on Danish literature. They will perform four times and I will join them twice as translator / performer. There will be new texts from Claus’ recent “Duerne lurer fra oven” and some unpublished work plus of course NEW Translations, fresh impros, and a lot of Jazz. Plus we’re currently working on a surprise!

Spread the word, come by and let’s have some great nights of beatpoetry!

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About Me

Welcome!

My name is Tobias J. Koch and I translate prose, poetry and non-fiction from Danish, English to German.

Graduated in 2015 in International Law and Politics I am an skilled and curious observer of Global and European politics. I'm particularly interested in the north of Europe and the Baltic Sea Region. Between 2015 and 2017 I supported international cooperation in the Baltic Sea Region, working for ARS BALTICA.

Since October 2015 I'm based in Tallinn, Estonia, working at the e-Estonia Showroom since September 2017, promoting e-governance and digitalisation in the public sector.